


this love for you (is hard to contain)

by orphan_account



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Demons, Demon Summoning, M/M, Ouija, boys being stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 07:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13359768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “We’re talking about, like, life and death here,” the demon says. “Either I kill someone for you, or I save someone’s life for you. Before then, I’m contractually bound to stay at your side and serve you.”





	this love for you (is hard to contain)

**Author's Note:**

> i 100% blame ben and kaya for enabling me to write this.
> 
> title from lovelyz's [ah-choo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v7qisJ_KuYI)

Aerosol deodorant. Scented candles. $5 Target wine, in a small glass bowl. Something shady and herbal in a plastic sandwich bag that was 90% certain to be oregano. Jihoon’s kitchen looked like a WikiHow article entitled _How To Summon a Demon on a Budget_ , or maybe _How To Ruin The Apartment When Your Roommate Is Visiting His Sister_ , or _How To Waste a Saturday Night When You Have An Important Exam In Three Days_. The intention was the first one, but looking back, it was probably going to end up the second or third one, because demons weren’t even _real_ and Jihoon was just trying to fulfill some morbid curiosity.

The aerosol was a pretty shitty substitute for incense, though, and Jihoon was slightly worried that demons took transubstantiation a bit too literally and he’d end up with a glass bowl of his own blood on the counter. And he didn’t know what the _hell_ the possibly-organo herb was, but he hoped the demon liked it. And the candle? Well, it was Daniel’s, who seemed to have some kind of scented candle addiction. Jihoon hoped he wouldn’t notice one going missing.

He slid the scrap of notebook paper the weird kid at the party—Jinyoung? He was pretty sure his name was Jinyoung—had given him out of his pocket and went through the instructions. _Lay out the materials in front of you with enough space to let the demon materialize._ Okay, so, he’d have to take everything off the counter. He picked them up and put them on the floor, parallel to the mini-fridge. _Stand on the other side of the materials._ He moved to stand front of the assortment of _things_ , on the side closest to the door. _Read the following incantation._

_This is so dumb,_ Jihoon thinks.

“O lord of darkness, send any of your willing minions to me,” he reads, “who will do my bidding no matter how sinful, who will be able to leap over any obstacle to fulfill my need.” Nothing was happening. “Grant me this wish and take the offerings I have provided here—wine, incense, herb, fire—as payment. I, Park Jihoon, thank you dearly.”

He lowers the paper. Nothing happened. He rolls his eyes, turns the kitchen lights on, and goes to the sitting room to watch Netflix or something.

 

Jihoon was certain he was hearing things.

He was halfway through binge-watching the new season of _Black Mirror_ , after all, so it made sense that he was hearing thudding and movement behind him. No way it was real. He was just being paranoid after watching kind of freaky TV episode after kind of freaky TV episode episode.

He totally, definitely, wasn’t scared.

He got up to re-fill his popcorn bowl, moving towards the kitchen, when he found himself standing in front of a figure. At first, he doesn’t believe his eyes—passing it off as a trick of the light. And then he blinks once and the figure is still there; blinks a second time and the figure is still there; shuts his eyes and opens them to find the figure _still there_.

That’s when he screams.

“I’m armed!” he yells, his heartbeat racing, holding the large ceramic bowl above the figure’s head. “I could smash this on your head right now! _Get out of my apartment_!”

“It wouldn’t do anything,” the figure says in a strange voice. He looked around Jihoon’s age, so nineteen or twenty, and around Jihoon’s height.

“Oh yeah?” Jihoon asks. A rush of adrenaline causes him to actually follow up on his thread—he brings the bowl down and hears it smash against the figure’s skull. He winces at the sound.

When he looks up, however, the figure was completely unharmed, shaking shards of ceramic out of his hair. “What. The. Fuck.” 

“I told you it wouldn’t do anything,” he says. “The weapons of this plane of existence won’t harm someone like me.”

Jihoon steps backward, wishing the hallway to the kitchen wasn’t blocked by the figure so he could get a knife or something. “Who the fuck are you, and why are you in my apartment,” he says. “Are you in a cult? Is that what this is about?”

“What’s a cult?” the figure asks. “I’m here because you asked for me.” Jihoon takes another step back. “You asked for a minion.” The more Jihoon thinks about it, the more he realizes he could smell the distinct smells of burning herbs and spray deodorant. “That’s me.”

“You’re a _demon_?” Jihoon asks. The figure didn’t _look_ like a demon. In the light, he looked like a regular college underclassman—hell, he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. “You don’t look like an evil minion of Satan.”

“I’m a junior minion of Satan,” the figure says. “My name’s Woojin.” It sounds like a ridiculously human name for a literal demon. Jihoon had tutored someone in high school called Woojin. 

“How come I got a junior minion?” Jihoon asks. He’s not intending to whine, but he’s pretty sure from the way the demon’s eyebrows shoot up that he is. “I deserve a senior demon.”

“You used _spray deodorant_ ,” the demon said. “That’s a _shit_ offering.” 

“You don’t need to be so blunt about it,” Jihoon mumbles.

“Fine,” the demon says. (He had a name, Jihoon just didn’t want to use it. He’d kind of been expecting _Andromalius, Minion of Lucifer_ or _Megatron, Avenger of the Damned_ , not _Woojin_.) “Your offering wasn’t satisfactory for all the other senior demons, so they sent me, even though this is like, my first week on the job.”

Jihoon blinks. “Right,” he says. “So, how do I get you to go away?”

The demon raises an eyebrow. “Go away?” he asks. “I don’t follow.”

“Leave,” Jihoon says. “Return to your demon dimension. _Go away._ ” The demon stares at him blankly. “I’ve seen a demon, curiosity satisfied, so goodbye, thanks for your time, it was nice to meet you.”

“That’s not possible,” the demon says.

“What do you _mean_ , it’s not possible?” Jihoon asks.

“I mean, I’m contractually bound to you,” the demon says, “until I’ve done your quote, _bidding no matter how sinful_ , unquote.” 

“So if I ask you to go to the kitchen and get a bag of Doritos, that’s my bidding, and then you’ll go away?” Jihoon says. The demon rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Okay, I guess not.”

“We’re talking about, like, life and death here,” the demon says. “Either I kill someone for you, or I save someone’s life for you. Before then, I’m contractually bound to stay at your side and serve you.” He shakes his head. “Generally when people summon demons, they’ve got someone in mind and it’s an easy task. Of course, I got the one human who manages to accidentally summon a demon with absolutely no purpose.”

“Wow,” Jihoon says, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. That’s a pretty big burden to put on me.” Then, “Do you want tea or coffee? Tell me more about this whole _I now have a pet demon_ thing.”

The demon glares at him. “I’m not a pet,” he says.

“Okay,” Jihoon says. “A demon minion. Same idea.”

 

Jihoon learns that demons have families, just like humans—Woojin comes from the Park family, which is ridiculously ironic—and that when a demon turns eighteen, they could choose to join the demon order. He learns that demons have a whole universe, a whole society that functions more or less like the human society, and that not every demon becomes a universe-hopping mercenary. He learns that humans could become demons too if they wanted to, crossing over the lines between universes to do other people’s bidding, but nobody ever did anymore because nobody believed it was possible. (“So was Dante a demon?” “Obviously, how else could the _Divine Comedy_ be so factually accurate?”) 

On the other hand, when Woojin asks Jihoon what there was to know about him, he tells him that he’s a second year acting major, that he’d summoned Woojin based on instructions a weird kid at a party gave him, that he was a member of his university’s drama organization and that the leader of said organization looked like he wanted to stab him. (“How come?” “Because apparently I’m an annoying shit, that’s why.” “Yeah, I don’t know you that well, but I’m pretty sure he’s right.”)

It’s 2am by the time Jihoon decides he’s tired, he’s going to sleep. “Do demons sleep?” he asks.

“Not sure,” Woojin says. “ _Fiends_ sleep, but I’m not sure if demons in another dimension have to follow those rules.”

“That’s so cool,” Jihoon says. “Do you have any idea how much time sleeping takes? Maybe I’ll join the demon order.”

“You’d have to kill people,” Woojin reminds him. “Somehow, I don’t think you’d have the stomach for it.”

“Totally worth it,” Jihoon assures him. “My roommate gets back tomorrow evening. Are you planning on making up a story as to why you live here now, or?”

Woojin shrugs. “Just say I’m your cousin or something,” he says.

Jihoon doesn’t think so. Woojin’s kind of cute, and it would be weird for him to think that about his fake cousin. Even if Woojin wasn’t _actually_ his cousin. “Old friend, got it,” he says. “Goodnight, demon boy.”

 

Daniel, as it turns out, doesn’t really care that there’s a third person in their apartment now. He cares a bit more about the fact that Jihoon stole one of his candles, but when Jihoon tells him about the backstory he invented for Woojin, he doesn’t really mind.

“He’s a really old family friend,” Jihoon said. “He lost his scholarship, and so he dropped out and he’s taking the next year to decide what to do, but he can’t go home because his parents live in Russia for work and it’s really hard for Americans to get visas, and he doesn’t have a Korean passport.”

“That sucks,” Daniel says, uncaring. “Poor guy.”

Man. Jihoon had spent all night coming up with that backstory. Someone should pay him to write a novel. “So he has to stay here, because my mom volunteered me.”

“Okay,” Daniel replies. “As long as he pays a third of the rent and buys his own toothbrush and doesn’t _steal my candles_.”

“So, like, be a better roommate than me,” Jihoon says.

“Precisely.”

Really, having a demon that follows you around is more helpful than it is annoying. Sure, there’s the fact that Woojin has to stay close to Jihoon, although they haven’t yet figured out _how close_ , but they’ve worked around that by finding the address of every on-campus coffee shop or eatery. Of which there are a lot. 

There’s also the added benefit of people thinking Jihoon finally stopped whining about how much he wants a boyfriend and actually got a boyfriend, and you know what, Jihoon was not going to correct them. If people thought he had a good-looking boyfriend who walked him to class every day, then goddamn, let them think. 

Woojin’s walking Jihoon to the auditorium for the weekly meeting of the Kwon International University Drama Society (or, as Jihoon called it in his head, Minhyun’s _Inferno_ , since the society’s president was actually demonic), when Seongwu brushes past them and remarks, “Future hubby, Jihoon?”

“Nothing of the sort,” Jihoon calls back to him. Seongwu _winks_. Goddamn, that was his trademark.

“What’s a hubby?” Woojin asks.

Jihoon shrugs. “Like, husband. I don’t know. Seongwu’s weird.”

Woojin frowns. “Why would people think I was your future husband?” he asks.

“Because they think we’re dating,” Jihoon answers.

Woojin’s frown deepens. “Why would we be dating?”

Jihoon laughs. “I guess this is different where you’re from, but here people don’t normally spend this much time with people if they’re not either dating or best friends. And nobody’s ever seen you before, so everyone assumes it’s the former.”

“Huh,” Woojin says. He pauses. “Do people think that’s a good thing for you?”

“I mean, you’re good-looking,” Jihoon says. “So I assume they do.”

“I’m good-looking to humans?” Woojin asks.

“Sure,” Jihoon says. He’s not blushing. He’s _not_. “Your face is pretty attractive, yeah.”

“Huh,” Woojin says. “So, that’s stayed the same between the universes then.” He grins at Jihoon. 

He rolls his eyes. “Arrogance doesn’t suit you, demon boy.”

What a shit.

 

Woojin has this weird fascination about all things human. Well, Jihoon can’t blame him, given that he hangs on to every word Woojin has to say about the demon world, but the fact that Woojin is _in_ the human world _surrounded by humans_ seems to make a difference. He spends a ridiculous amount of time choosing from menus, watching TV, and skimming through the _Lonely Planet_ travel guide to the United States. He’d been a goner as soon as Jihoon taught him how to use Netflix. 

They’ve put a drama on, something with subtitles because neither of them can speak Korean, and they’re both watching intently—Jihoon’s studying the male lead’s expressions, 100% because he’s a good actor and 0% because he happens to be hot, and he’s not sure what Woojin is doing other than stealing all the popcorn. (By the looks of it, demons didn’t have popcorn, because Woojin was _obsessed_ with it.) 

“Is this actually how humans date?” he asks when the male lead confesses to the female lead, all assholish and tsundere in true k-drama male lead fashion. “This all feels a bit too dramatic.”

“It’s a drama,” Jihoon says. “It’s not meant to be realistic.”

“We have dramas in my world too,” Woojin says. “They’re more realistic than this.”

“Well, I suppose the life of your average demon woman in her 20s is more interesting than her human counterpart, but drama writers have to make things interesting on our end because regular life is just really boring,” Jihoon explains. “Why, what’s dating like for demons?”

“Oh, the ordinary,” Woojin says. “You buy flowers, go to the movies, take a swim in the lake of fire to prove your worthiness, you know, normal stuff.”

Jihoon blinks. “The lake of fire.”

“Well, not anymore,” Woojin clarifies, “but in the past, men had to prove they were worthy to court a girl by swimming two lengths of the lake of fire. Actually, there’s been a feminist movement of women proving their worth by swimming the two lengths, but…”

“The literal _lake of fire_ ,” Jihoon repeats. “You take a swim in a lake of _lava_.”

“Well, it’s not like it does any harm to us,” Woojin says. 

“Right,” Jihoon says. “Lake of fire. Totally normal.” He turns back to the drama. “Have you ever done it?”

“Done what?”

“Proved your worthiness to a girl by swimming in the lake of fire.”

“No,” Woojin replies. “You’re not meant to do it unless you intend to marry the person you’re proving yourself to. Besides, I don’t like girls.”

“You don’t like girls?” Jihoon asks. He turns back to Woojin. “So you like guys?”

“Yeah,” Woojin says. “Why are you looking at me weirdly? Is that not normal for humans?”

“I mean, it is,” Jihoon says. “But a lot of people make a big deal out of it and act like it’s unnatural and shit. I kind of thought it’d be the same for demons.”

“We’re governed by Satan,” Woojin reminds him. “I don’t think we follow your rules, Jihoon.”

“Clearly not,” Jihoon says. “So, go on, how do demons _nowadays_ date? None of this fire-diving shit.”

Woojin shrugs. He looks strangely awkward—half watching the drama and half looking at Jihoon, looking between both as if he can’t decide which would end better for him. “Like in the dramas. But less dramatic.” His eyes linger slightly on Jihoon’s mouth.

_No way._

“So, like this?” he asks before he can stop himself, tilting Woojin’s chin towards him and tugging him forward to kiss him. His heart rate rises. 

Woojin breaks away from him. “Yeah,” he says. “Like that.” He moves closer again and this time, he’s the one to kiss Jihoon. 

Half an hour later, when Daniel gets back, they’re still kissing. “Jesus Christ,” he says. “I didn’t have to see that, Jihoon.”

Jihoon flips him off and continues kissing Woojin.

 

He’s not sure if Woojin is his _boyfriend_ per say. It’s not like anything between them has really changed—they still eat together and go to class together, which Jihoon supposes is a boyfriend-like thing but he can’t help but wonder if Woojin would still do it if they weren’t literally bound together by a magical contract. 

The only thing that’s changed is that they kiss sometimes—well, more than sometimes—and that sometimes Jihoon will hold Woojin’s hand in public. It’s weird, actually, to have a boyfriend-who’s-not-a-boyfriend, especially if said boyfriend also happens to be a demon.

“Woojin?” he asks one night. There’s a film on TV, but neither of them are really watching. “What are we?”

“What do you mean?” Woojin asks, looking at him strangely.

“I mean,” Jihoon says. “What are we? Like, are we dating, or just…you know, not dating, we just kiss sometimes.”

“Of course we’re dating,” Woojin says. “At least, that’s what I thought we were.” He frowns at Jihoon. “Why, were you hoping for something else?”

“No,” Jihoon says. “It’s just, you’re magically bound to me. I can’t tell if you actually want to spend time with me or if it’s just the contract.”

As soon as he says it, he realizes it’s a stupid thing to say. Woojin’s face steels. “So you think I’m only doing date-y things with you because of the contract?” he asks. “Really, Jihoon? You think so low of me?”

“No,” Jihoon says. “No, it’s not like that.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Woojin. It’s _not_. It’s just, you’re a demon, you probably want to go back to the demon world, what would you want to seriously date a human for?”

“Well,” Woojin says, his voice more bitter than Jihoon has ever heard it, “actually, I was thinking that the fact that you weren’t going to kill anyone anytime soon would mean I could stay here for longer. That I could stay with you, because I like you, and I want to try this out with you. Clearly, that’s not what you want.”

“I do want that,” Jihoon says. “I want to date you.”

“And yet you’re acting like this relationship is so different,” Woojin says. “Why? Is it because I’m not human? Because I’m from another dimension? What is it, Jihoon, that’s making the idea that I _want to be with you_ so hard to understand?”

Jihoon stares at him. “I don’t know,” he says finally. “I don’t know, okay, Woojin? It’s not like your average sophomore has a boyfriend from another dimension!”

“That’s the problem!” Woojin says. “You can’t stop seeing me as a _demon_! And here was me thinking you liked me for my personality or something.”

“That’s not true,” Jihoon says. “It’s _not_. I do like your personality?”

“Yeah?” Woojin asks. “If you liked me that much, you wouldn’t keep bringing the fact that I’m a demon up. I _hate_ this job. I _hate_ the demon dimension. I was hoping this could be a way for me to actually be happy for once, but—”

“But?” Jihoon asks. He’s angry now—they both are. “But I ruined that?”

“But you’re being so damn _immature_!” Woojin yells. 

“Immature?” Jihoon repeats. “ _Immature_?” He grabs his jacket from the coat hanger. “I’m going out. Don’t follow me.”

He storms out before Woojin can even react. _Good_ , he thinks. _I don’t need to hear him._

 

He’s too angry to notice the car headlights until they’re too close.

 

And then nothing happens, and he feels himself hit the concrete on the sidewalk with a thud. The car swerves and runs down the road—Jihoon clearly sees the back lights flashing. He’s shaking, quivering in the cold air and from the shock of impact. _How was I not hit?_

“Jihoon,” says Woojin’s voice softly. “Jihoon, are you okay?”

Jihoon opens his eyes. “Woojin,” he says. “You followed me.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you be,” Woojin says. “I’m not leaving you behind.” He moves to touch Jihoon’s cheek, as if making sure he’s really there. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Jihoon wraps his arms around Woojin and hugs him, feeling the other boy stiffen at first but then loosen. They stay like that, until Jihoon literally feels his arm slip through Woojin’s shoulder.

“What the fuck,” he says. “Woojin, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but you’re dissolving.”

“What?” Woojin asks. Suddenly panicked, he tries to raise his arm and fails—for the simple reason that his arm was _not there_. “Oh my god. Jihoon. _I saved your life._ ”

It takes a couple seconds to sink in. Woojin’s words from that day he had appeared, almost two months ago, rise to the forefront of his brain: _Either I kill someone for you, or I save someone’s life for you. Before then, I’m contractually bound to stay at your side and serve you._ “No,” he says. “No, Woojin, you can’t leave.”

The only part of Woojin remaining are his neck, left shoulder, and head. “I have to,” he says. “Jihoon—I have to tell you—”

“What?” Jihoon says. “No, no, Woojin, that car wouldn’t even have killed me, how did you save my life?”

“Jihoon,” Woojin says, but the only thing remaining is his head. He says something, but Jihoon doesn’t hear it—it sounds too muffled. 

Then he disappears. And Jihoon is left there, all alone kneeled down on the concrete.

 

“Okay, so let me get this straight,” Jinyoung says. There’s a friend with him, who’s tall and quiet but considerably less creepy. “You summoned a demon, befriended the demon, fell in love with the demon, and then the demon saved your life and returned to the demon world and you want to contact him again.”

“Yes!” Jihoon says. “I knew you’d understand.”

“I don’t understand,” Jinyoung says. “I’m completely and utterly confused.”

“Right,” Jihoon says. “So, do you have any ideas?”

Jinyoung shrugs. “Dunno,” he says. “I don’t know any rituals to summon a _specific_ demon. Besides, you’d probably trip over the stairs or something and have to do the ritual eighteen times in a year.”

“Hey!” Jihoon says. “I would not.”

Jinyoung hums. “You could try contacting him with an ouija board?” he asks. “I mean, I’ve never tried it, personally, but Guanlin has.”

“Yeah,” said the quiet guy. “I have.”

“Huh,” Jihoon says. “So, how exactly do you use it?” 

“Well,” Guanlin says. “You can’t do it alone, but you need to make sure all music or loud noise-emitting things are off. Then you just need to put the board on your knees and put your hand on the planchette and speak to it.”

“And it’ll reply?” Jihoon asks.

Guanlin looks at him like he’s stupid. “Have you _never_ watched a movie with an Ouija board before?” he asks.

“No?” Jihoon says.

“Well, yeah, it replies,” Guanlin replies. 

“Come to me and Guanlin’s dorm, we’ll do the séance there,” Jinyoung offers. Jihoon is pretty sure visiting two people you barely know’s dorm to do a séance is frowned upon socially, but also—he’s desperate.

“Wow,” Jihoon says. “That’s so kind of you.”

“Is that a no?”

“No, I’ll come.”

 

Guanlin lays out the Ouija board so that there’s equal distance between them, resting his hand on the planchette (which, Jihoon discovers, is the little piece of wood that apparently was meant to move). “Do you know what you want to ask?” he questions Jihoon.

“Yeah,” Jihoon says. “Ask about Park Woojin. Uh…ask where he is, and if he can send me a message and tell me what he was going to say before he disappeared.”

“Okay,” Guanlin says. He clears his throat. “Are any other beings present?”

Jihoon watches intently. The planchette moves to _yes_.

“How many?”

_1._

Jinyoung whistles. “That’s better,” he whispers to Jihoon.

“Do you know a demon called Park Woojin?”

_Yes._

“Can you contact him?”

The planchette moves to H, and then E, and then D, and then O. _E-S-N-T-W-O-R-K-H-E-R-E-N-O-W._

“He doesn’t work here now?” Jihoon asks. “What does that mean?”

“What does that mean?” Guanlin repeats.

_H-E-Q-U-I-T_. 

“Quit what?”

_D-E-M-O-N-O-R-D-E-R_.

“And you can’t contact him? At all?”

_G-O-N-E-O-F-F-T-H-E-G-R-I-D_.

“Oh,” Jihoon says. He’s completely lost now. “What does that mean?”

“What does that mean?” Guanlin repeats.

_N-O-M-O-R-E-Q-U-E-S-T-I-O-N-S_.

Jihoon watches as the planchette moves to _Goodbye_ , sighing disappointedly when it stops there. “That was a flop,” he says.

“Yeah, it really was,” Jinyoung agrees.

Jihoon sighs. “What now?”

Jinyoung shrugs. “You get used to the fact that you can’t contact your demon boyfriend?” he suggests.

Jinyoung’s right, really, but Jihoon doesn’t really want to think there’s no hope for him and Woojin. There must be. He’d figure something out.

 

The next day is a Saturday, which means _sleeping in as late as you can because responsibilities are fake_. Except that dream gets stopped, bc he’s woken up by Daniel flicking the light on and off and repeating his name over and over again.

“Jihoon, goddamn, can you wake up, your friend wants to see you!” he yells, flicking the light switch on and off again. 

“Shut up,” Jihoon mumbles.

He watches through his half-open eyes as Daniel crosses to the other side of the room and opens the curtains. Jihoon recoils at the sudden light. “Wake up. Jesus. I’m pretty sure you don’t want to leave him hanging.”

“Who is it?” Jihoon asks.

Daniel raises an eyebrow. “Your _friend_.” He stresses on friend.

“What’s that meant to mean?” Jihoon asks, sliding out of bed and checking that he’s decent enough to be seen by a person. “Who is it?”

“Someone who’s probably here to apologize, given that he hasn’t been here for, like, two days,” Daniel says. Jihoon thinks he might have an idea—or, rather, a hope—on who it might be. _No way._ “I don’t remember his name.” 

“Woojin?” Jihoon asks. “The guy who was living here?”

“Yeah,” Daniel says. “That guy.”

Later, when Jihoon thought about this moment, he would insist to himself that he did _not_ run from his bedroom to the door as fast as a guy who hadn’t run since primary school sports days could be. He was completely composed, calm, cool as a cucumber. 

But in the moment? Yeah, he fucking ran. 

By the time he stops at the door, which is wide open, he’s slightly breathless, and the sight of Woojin standing there as if he wasn’t sure what to make of himself doesn’t help. “What are you doing here?” he asks. “I thought—I did a séance, and the spirit told me you quit the demon order and he couldn’t contact you.”

“I stole a traveling device,” Woojin says. “After I quit. It’s this little thing that lets you hop over the barrier between the universes.” He swallows. “Can I come in?”

Jihoon nods wordlessly. He steps aside and lets Woojin walk in. “Continue?” he asks, watching Woojin slump into the couch.

“Yeah,” Woojin says. “I stole it and travelled back to the human world. And then I smashed it so there’s no way anyone could summon me back.” He smiles at Jihoon. “You did a séance?”

“Yeah,” Jihoon says. “I wanted to contact you. But the spirit told me you were off the grid and he couldn’t contact you, so I dropped it.” Woojin shakes his head fondly. Or, at least, Jihoon hopes it’s fond. “Why did you come back?”

“I told you,” Woojin says. “I hate the whole demon universe.” He shudders. “I never left, because I figured I don’t have anything in the human world either, but…”

“But?” Jihoon asks.

Woojin looks at the ground. “But you gave me something worth coming back for.” Jihoon blinks. Then he laughs. Woojin looks at him strangely. “What? What’s so funny?”

“No, it’s just,” Jihoon says. “I never thought I’d get a good-looking boy who’d give impromptu drama-worthy speeches to me in my life, but here I am and here you are.” He moves forwards. “So you’re going to stay?”

“Yeah,” Woojin says. “I brought my high school qualifications. My friend Daehwi magicked them into human qualifications for me.” He shrugs. “I’m gonna try live my life in this world. I like it a lot more than I liked my original world.”

Jihoon nods. “And you’ll stay with me?” he asks, sitting down beside him on the couch.

“If you want me to,” Woojin replies.

Jihoon leans forward. “I do.” He presses his lips to Woojin’s softly. “I really, really do.”

 

“I can’t believe I’m going to have to find someone else to split the rent with,” Daniel says, shaking his head at the boxes being dragged out of the apartment. “You didn’t have to just betray me like that, Jihoon.”

It had been—what, four months? Five months—since Woojin showed up at Jihoon’s door, and Park Jihoon had never been better. Sure, his GPA had taken a slight hit because now he had a very present distraction, and he was pretty sure the number of séances Woojin had done to contact his old demon friends was starting to concern Daniel, but other than that everything was going well. 

Woojin was entering Jihoon’s university as a sophomore the coming September. (Somehow, he’d convinced the administration to let him skip freshman year. Smart bitch.) He had no idea what he’d major in (“What did you like back in school, then?” “You know. Demon subjects. I don’t think that’d be helpful.”) but still, it was nice. Nice to have Woojin around.

“Guess it’s true that some people will throw everything else away when they’re in love,” Jihoon replies, throwing a wink at Woojin, who was carrying a small box out of their bedroom labelled simply _BOOKS_. (He’d started buying way too many books lately. Jihoon, who hadn’t read a book since seventh grade, felt incredibly left out.) 

Daniel winces. “Gross,” he says. “You guys are gross. You met him, like, six months ago, Jesus Christ.”

But Woojin smiles at him, carrying the box downstairs to the van that’d take them to a place that was _theirs_ , and Jihoon really didn’t care what Daniel had to say.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! if you did, let me know on [twitter](https://twitter.com/veIvetyeris).


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